


Stacking The Deck

by Pendragyn



Series: Ineffable Bastards Universe [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Agnes Nutter Continues To Meddle, Agnes Nutter Ghost Witch, Discworld References, Gen, Gytha "Nanny" Ogg - Freeform, Harriet is Warlock's Bio Mom, Loose Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 05:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pendragyn/pseuds/Pendragyn
Summary: We got to watch the first shuffle, but someone else has decided to stack the deck.





	Stacking The Deck

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my mom, who called me her miracle baby. Miss you Mom.

Harriet wanted to be asleep. She’d just had a baby a few hours earlier, and all she really wanted was sleep. They had given her something for the pain, but it didn’t stop her having to use the restroom, which was NOT FUN right now, and it took a while for things to settle back down and she just. wanted. sleep.

What she got, was voices.

A few she recognized, distant and muzzy, as the nuns who’d helped deliver the baby. There was also the one not-nun who’d shuffled in during the chaos, wrinkly as an old apple with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, who had actually delivered the baby before quickly shuffling back out again. The nuns had treated her with deep respect, whispering to each other about ‘a touch of the Old Adam’ she carried about her.

There was now a lot more raucous laughter coming from down the hallway, and some singing of what were definitely _not_ religious hymns. Mingled in were the voices of men, which some deep part of her brain realized were from her supposed security detail, who’d abandoned her the minute the live feed with her husband had ended.

But under those voices was another voice, one that she’d learned to listen to when it whispered a little too loudly to ignore. And it was telling her to check on the baby, to check on Warlock. Right Now.

With a muffled groan Harriet slid her legs over the side of the bed and eased herself to her feet. With the dimmed lights and muddled by whatever they had given her, it took her a moment to realize that the bassinet wasn’t there. No Warlock. And no guards. And no nuns.

The coolness of the linoleum felt good against the bottoms of her feet and she shuffled dreamily out of the room into the empty hallway, too well medicated to feel panic, but the little voice was getting louder. And it was talking with an odd accent, which was weird. And it was calling her by her full name now, which was even more unusual. _Find your baby, Harriet Sibyl Dowling. Find him now or lose him forever._

She swayed uncertainly at a crossroads, the darkness and everything conspiring to make the two hallways seem interminably long and full of oddly moving shadows. What finally moved her was the out of tune singing that seemed to be going on about ‘hedgehogs can never be something at all’. Harriet liked hedgehogs, and on unsteady legs she moved towards the voices.

“Let me just pop out and get another bottle!” A splash of light and noise flooded the end of the hallway and Harriet turned away in self defense, pushing through a swinging door and finding herself in the tiny nursery. There were three babies in bassinets, lined up in a row, clearly having just been tended to and awaiting return to their mothers.

On the little weighing table next to the door, three tiny bracelets drew Harriet’s attention ,and the part of her that had been raised to be helpful picked them up and moved towards the trio of babies. She’d always been good at _kenning_, as her grandmother had called it. Said it was a special gift that only a few people were born with, and she had warned her solemnly to keep it secret. She’d never even told Thaddeus, not that he would have believed her. It had led her to him, had told her just where she needed to be to be noticed by him.

She’d been making quite a bit of money, going down to the boardwalk and the street fairs and watching with wide-eyed innocence as some fast talker shuffled cards or shifted cups while asking people to make bets. She’d pretend shyness and let them flirt with her, and feign delighted shock when she’d lose and lose and lose only to win in the very end, much to everyone’s amazement, especially the ones doing the shuffling. But that day she’d gone and watched other people play and lose, and when the man from her dreams walked up, dressed fancy and looking to impress his friends, she’d let her grandmother’s sun hat float away on the breeze and land at his feet. The rest had fallen into place, as they say, like magic.

The thought of magic had her turning to look at the little sleeping babies snuggled in their blankets. Harriet knew right away which one was hers, all hers, little Warlock in the cream blanket. She tied the little bracelet back on his wrist, stroking her finger over the curve of his cheek. “Hello baby Warlock. My little miracle baby.” She thought of all the effort they’d gone through, her and Thaddeus, to get to this point, and here he was, small and wrinkly and perfect.

The little baby on the left shifted and sneezed and Harriet stifled a giggle, looking down at the other two bracelets, squinting at the bad handwriting, not that it mattered, because she knew the right tag went to the left baby, bundled snuggly in a red blanket. She squinted at the name. “Hello little Adam. Do you have a touch of the Old Adam in you too, I wonder? You look like a little angel to me,” she cooed, tying his little bracelet on.

All that left was the right baby, sleeping soundly in blue, looking supremely satisfied. “And here’s another little angel, waiting to fly off to his mommy and daddy. They’re going to love you very much, yes they are, yes they are,” she cooed, feeling supremely satisfied herself with a job well done. She’d had a baby and had averted disaster and all would be well with the world when she could finally get some sleep.

Sister Theresa Garrulous was laughing at a joke the midwife was telling when she pulled up short in the doorway to the nursery, the much shorter woman walked into her back with a muffled yelp. “Mrs. Dowling!”

Harriet smiled dreamily and shushed the nun and the little grinning woman behind her. “Shhhh! You’ll wake them.”

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, dear,” said the shorter woman, gently taking Harriet’s hand and trying to lead her back to her room.

“I needed to check on the baby,” Harriet told her. She twisted around to look at him again, clearly not wanting to let him out of her sight.

Sister Theresa anxiously looked over the babies, checking their tags and sighing in relief that this time Sister Barbara Jane Obstreperous hadn’t foolishly taken off their tags during their baths, as the old hag was usually wont to do, no matter how much Mother Superior scolded her. “Why don’t we bring him back with you,” said Sister Theresa soothingly, unlocking the wheels of the center bassinet. “He’s all tidied up for now and it will be a bit before he needs another feeding. Maybe you’ll be more rested by then.”

“I hope so,” said Harriet, smiling down at the wrinkly old woman who wasn’t actually as old as Harriet had assumed. “The little voice was getting quite loud,” she confided.

“Oh, they do that sometimes,” the midwife agreed, patting Harriet’s hand and helping her back into her bed. “Stay in bed now, there’s a dear, you’ve had a rough time of it and no mistake.”

Harriet nodded, feeling sudden tears pooling in her eyes. “It’s a miracle we had a baby at all,” she said, smiling over to where the nun had settled Warlock’s bassinet. “He’ll probably be the only one I have, but I’ll love him no matter what. My little miracle baby.”

And Sister Theresa shared a smirk with the midwife before happily bustling herself back to the party, assuming the midwife was following along behind. Much like winking, smirking was an ancient and versatile communication device. For example, Sister Theresa Garrulous’ smirk said: _A dark and sinister miracle seen to by Hell’s Chosen Envoy, Master Crowley, to deliver unto her the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness. We shall be greatly rewarded for our work here this terrible night, basking in eternity under Our Lord Satan’s great and sullied wings!_

And she had assumed the midwife’s smirk had meant: _Indeed, Sister Theresa, foul and dark deeds were done this night and you and the others of your order will reap the many rewards promised to you, I assure you of this as a Chosen Emissary of Hell, Satan’s Own Midwife._

Whereas the midwife, knowing full well what Sister Theresa’s smirk meant, had smirked back while thinking to herself: _Get gone you daft bloody besom, before I send you to your reward myself. How absolutely binkers do you have to be to want to destroy the very planet you live on?_ With tenderness she patted Harriet’s hand, tucking her back under the covers. “I have no doubt you will love him with all your heart, dear. What did you name him?”

“We were going to name him Thaddeus, but one of the nuns suggested Warlock and I knew it was just right.” They both looked to the small form sleeping in the bassinet and the midwife canted her head and cracked into a wide smile and followed Sister Theresa out of the room. She turned left instead of right though, heading for the main doors, her work for the night done, and done well if she said so herself.

When a shadow passed in the hall Sister Mary Loquacious popped out of her little room near the entrance, where she’d been tasked to keep an eye on the door in case they had any other visitors during the evening hours. “Oh, leaving so soon?” she said with a slight sigh of disappointment. She really had hoped to geta chance to join in on the sinister celebrations going on in the refectory.

“‘Fraid so, love, got other patients to see to back in Lancretown. Don’t look so glum dear, I see good days ahead for you. Just steer clear of Master Crowley and that lot, yeah?”

Sister Mary frowned in confusion at having a Chosen Emissary of Hell telling a Satanic nun to avoid dealing with demons, but she liked Nanny Ogg far too much to contradict her. “I’ll, er, keep it in mind Nanny.”

“You do that my dear, and you’ll be golden,” Nanny grinned, giving Sister Mary a wink and slipping out the door.

Back in her room Harriet shifted a little, just beginning to finally drift off to sleep, smiling as a cool hand brushed against her brow, tucking her mussed hair away from her cheek. _That’s my girl,_ the not-so-little voice whispered, a faint image of a handsome middle-aged woman in old timey clothes shimmering in the air beside her bed. _I’m mighty proud of ye, Harriet Sibyl Nutter Dowling. Everything’s right where it needs to be._


End file.
